Putting The Pieces Together
by Meleigha
Summary: She knew a child was a precious gift, but why were some tossed aside so easily? Why was she not worthy of love? What made them worth so much less?


**_Here's a little one shot I had forgotten about. Came across it today when I should have been working on my update for On Her Own. Anywho...hope you enjoy it._**

**_Oh...I now have two puppies, but I don't own Bones._**

Putting The Pieces Together

Splatters on her office window mesmerized her as she stared into the night. Focusing on a single drop as it hit and then seemed to fall apart has it slid helplessly and aimlessly down the smooth glass surface. It never reached its intentional destination. Instead was stopped short by an unseen wall, the last protecting barrier.

Ignoring the ringing cell phone she stayed consumed in her world. Her world where no one could get to her, where she was herself, no need for names or labels. No one really knew who she was. To her father and brother she was Joy, to her case worker she was "that kid", dates knew her as Temperance, Angela knew her as Tempe, to Zack, Hodgins, and Cam she was Dr. Temperance Brennan, and Booth knew her as Bones, but none of these really fit. Everyone had given her a name. Everyone had the need to make the puzzle fit together to give everything in his or her life a name; a label. But her puzzle was never complete too many missing pieces.

"Too many missing pieces," she said aloud as she turned and closed the file that was opened on her desk. She ran her fingers across the scribbled name on the tab before letting out a defeated sigh. Grabbing her bag and keys, she turned off her lamp and made her way for the door. She gave one last quick glace at the closed folder before turning to leave.

Three weeks before

"Bones, we've got a case," his weary tone caught her attention.

He didn't have to explain; she already knew. They sat there looking at each other; feeling each other's apprehension, anger, and sadness. Cases that involved children were always the hardest. Booth spent so much time trying to convince Brennan that parents loved their children and that her parents loved her, but these cases only seemed to strengthen her opinion that many parents did not love their children and most of all that her parents did not love her.

Arriving at the crime scene, Bones identified the body as a female teenager somewhere between the ages of 14 and 17. Multiple stab wounds were evident throughout the remains. Both could only imagine the anguish.

Upon returning to the Jeffersonian, they were able to determine that stab wounds to her various organs causing massive bleeding was the cause of death. Angela was able to reconstruct a visual without too much difficulty. Booth identified the body as 15-year-old Johnna Adams, a foster child.

She insisted on going with Booth to question the current foster parents; she had to help Johnna tell her story. They were distant, unattached people. People who you want to believe only exist on TV; surely God wouldn't create such heartless human beings.

"Is this how it really is?" he asked her once situated back in his SUV.

"That's how it was for me," she replied no emotion in her voice.

"How…" he couldn't finish the question.

"I was one of the lucky ones," she answered knowing the question with out it being spoken.

They drove away from the house with so many unanswered questions, so many missing pieces.

The next day, they went to child services. Seated in front of a caseworker's desk, they asked all the typical questions.

"Let me print you off her file," stated the caseworker. "I think that will help more than my poor memory."

Reaching across the desk, she handed Booth a file folder with the still warm printed sheets of paper stuck inside. Booth nodded his gratitude.

"Now you're sure she's dead?" asked the caseworker.

With a puzzled look, Booth nodded as he said, "Yes."

"Okay, just wanted to make sure before I deleted her," she gave a laugh and quickly pressed delete.

It was all Brennan could do to not jump over the desk. Not wanting anyone to see the tears that were starting to cascade down her face, she bolted for the door.

"What's wrong with your partner?" asked the caseworker.

"Can you really be that stupid…and heartless," he replied following after Bones.

"Bones!" he yelled after her.

Finally catching her; he pulled her around to face him. His heart splintered as he saw the hurt in her eyes, and her tear stained face.

"I'm so sorry, Bones," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she answered as another wall went up around her heart.

They couldn't get a break. Every lead came to a dead end and the stress was showing on both of them, but especially Brennan.

Back to the Present

Brennan made her way to her car, unlocked it, and got in. She wasn't sure why she was going home; she just knew she couldn't stay any longer. That had become a constant problem of late. She was restless. Everyone had a hard time finding her, including Booth. She took lunch breaks just as an excuse to get out, but never eating. She would leave to run errands, but there were never any errands to run. She would go home, but wouldn't stay. And she didn't answer her phone or return her calls. More and more walls were going up and Booth wasn't sure if they could be torn down.

Once at home, she sat on the couch and stared at the wall. She didn't notice the blinking numbers on the answering machine or the dirty clothes that were scattered about the apartment. This case had brought back a harsh reality. She was alone. Who would have fought for her when she was a 15-year-old teenager? No one. And now she had let Johnna down. Tears began stinging her eyes. Why couldn't Johnna have a family! Why couldn't she have a family! What was so awful about them? Why couldn't someone love them? Why couldn't they belong in a bigger picture?

Brennan grabbed a pair of running shorts and a tee shirt from the floor of the living room and hurried off to her bedroom. Emerging seconds later, she adjusted her ipod, slid her key and a few bills into her shoe, and raced out the door. This had become an escape for her many years ago. Running seemed to chase away the memories and thoughts that plagued her mind. It was just her and the steady sound of her tennis shoes against the concrete. She longed for the sprinkles that had teased the city all day, but now the sky had cleared and not a single rain cloud threatened the twilight sky. So she just kept running.

She wasn't sure how she wound up here. Seven miles from her apartment; it was the park where Johnna had been found. And even though the yellow tape had been removed, she knew exactly were Johnna was lain. She stumbled over, unable to control her weakened legs or the tears that were sliding down her cheeks. She sat crossed legged and buried her head between her legs and hands.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, "I'm so sorry. You deserved so much more, but…but I just don't know what else I can do. I just don't know. There's just too many missing pieces."

Her tears finally calmed and she raised her chin to rest on her knee. Looking at the place where they had found Johnna, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Haphazardly blowing in the wind a white piece of paper had lodged itself under the landscaping beams. Leaning over it investigate further, she saw…blood? Brennan frantically looked around for something she could use without compromising the possible evidence. Finding herself at a loss, she looked across the street to a local 24-hour mini mart. Remembering the few bills she had shoved into her shoe, she knew this was the best possibility.

"Johnna," she said, "Please, just keep it there. I'll be right back. I promise."

She raced across the street and within moments returned with store brand zippy bags. Yanking two bags out of their cardboard container, she used one as a makeshift glove picking up the piece of paper and placing it inside the other bag. As she looked at the paper through its plastic barrier, the hopelessness left her.

Reality set in when she realized that she didn't have her car or even her cell, but she did have her legs. She began running again, clutching the evidence in her hand. She knew Booth's apartment was only two or three miles away and at this speed she'd be there in about 20 minutes. Her muscles screamed, but she pushed on willing them to move faster.

When she saw Booth's apartment building, the tears began to trickle down. Tears of hope, hurt, and release. Release of the walls that were cramping her heart. She managed to make it up the three flights of stairs before her legs buckled and refused to move any further. Crawling down the hallway, she fell against his door unable to muster enough strength to knock.

Hearing the thud against his door, Booth made his way from the couch to the door. As he opened the door, he saw her small frame leaning into the apartment.

"Bones!" he shouted bending down to her.

She gave him a weak smile and held up the plastic bag.

"Bones," he whispered picking her up off the floor and carrying her into his apartment.

He laid her on the couch; sitting himself on the coffee table in front of her.

"She left it for us, Booth," she wheezed, "Johnna left it for us."

Booth took the plastic bag from her grasp and began examining it. 'Telephone number, name, and…blood?' he thought to himself.

"How..where did you find this?" he questioned.

"At the scene," she squeezed out still trying to comfort her lungs.

"How did you.." he tried to ask but was interrupted by her scream of pain.

She was clenching her leg trying to relax the cramped muscle. Booth shooed her hands out of the way as he began messaging her legs. They sat in silence has his hands soothed the aching muscles of her legs and her breathing evened out.

"Why don't you start from the beginning and tell me the whole story," Booth stated now rubbing her tired feet.

Brennan did as he asked. Starting from leaving the Jeffersonian up to him finding her on his doorstep.

"She's giving me pieces, now we've got to put it together," she choked on the lump that was rising in her throat, "Not just for her, but for me. She needs to know that someone cares about her. She needs to know that she belongs; that she's important in the grand scheme of things."

Booth could read well beyond the words she was speaking. He knew this case had caused her to loose her footing; had caused her to loose faith in herself. He would fix it; he would make it right.

Once she had rested her muscles and Booth felt that she was hydrated enough, they called the team instructing everyone to meet at the Jeffersonian.

His squints pulled through for him. By the next afternoon, they had a solid case and the man responsible for Johnna's death was behind bars pending a trail.

It was five o'clock as Booth strolled in the Jeffersonian looking for his favorite anthropologist.

"Bones," he shouted.

"In here, Booth," she answered from her office door.

Keys and bag in hand, she was ready to call it a day.

"Ready to go?" he question.

"Definitely," she stated.

They of course wound up at the diner sitting in their booth. Talking about the past few weeks and the events from the night before, when Booth cleared his throat.

"Bones," he leaned over the table seriousness engulfing his face.

"Last night at my place," he began, "You talked about Johnna needing to belong and I think through this case you forgot exactly where you belong."

"I know, Booth," she said, "I belong with you and the squints."

"True," he answered, "But you also belong here." He stated as he lifted her hand and placed it over his heart.

**_Logically speaking, the probability of Brennan finding evidence at the crimescene like that isn't very high, but I thought it made a nice twist in the story. Like it? Hate it? Let me know._**


End file.
